"About all that our boys talk about is uniforms, pay, transportation,
army corps, divisions, naval squadrons, and so on."
An occasional Branton Hills politician thought that it "might blow out
in a month or two;" but your Historian knows that it didn't; all of
that "blowing" consisting of blasts from that military clarion, calling
for mobilization.
* * * * *
Days! Days! Days! Finally, on May Fourth, that day of tiny Nancy's big
church ritual, you know; that day, upon which any woman would look back
with romantic joy, Nancy, with Kathlyn, Lady Gadsby and His Honor,
stood at Branton Hills' big railway station, at which our Municipal
Band was drawn up; in back of which stood, in solid ranks, this city's
grand young manhood, Bill, Julius, Frank, John, Paul and Norman
standing just as straight and rigid as any. As that long, long troop
train got its signal to start,--but you know all about such sights,
going on daily, from our Pacific coast to Atlantic docks.
As it shot around a turn, and Gadsby was walking sadly toward City
Hall, a Grammar School boy hurrying up to him said:--
"_Wow!!_ I wish _I_ could go to war!"
"Hi!" said Gadsby. "If it isn't Kid Banks!"
"Aw! Cut that kid stuff! I'm _Allan_ Banks! Son of _Councilman_ Banks!"
"Oh, pardon. But you don't want to go to war, boy."
"_Aw! I do too!!_"
"But young boys _can't_ go to war."
"I know that; and I wish this will last until I grow so I _can_ go.
It's just grand! A big cannon says _Boom! Boom!_ and,--"
"Sit down on this wall, boy. I want to talk to you."
"All right. Shoot!"
"Now look, Allan. If this war should last until you grow up, just think
of how many _thousands_ of troops it would kill. How many grand, good
lads it would put right out of this world."
"Gosh! That's so, ain't it! I didn't think of guys dyin'."
"But a man _has_ to think of that, Allan. And _you_ will, as you grow
up. My two big sons just put off on that big troop train. I don't know
_how_ long Bill and Julius will stay away. Your big cannon might go
_Boom!_ and hit Bill or Julius. Do you know Frank Morgan, Paul Johnson
and John Smith? All right; that big cannon might hit that trio, too.
Nobody can say _who_ a cannon will hit, Allan. Now, you go right on
through Grammar School, and grow up into a big strong man, and don't
think about war;" and Gadsby, standing and gazing far off to Branton
Hills' charming hill district, thought: "I think _that_ will bust up a
wild young ambition!"